


Flickering Lights

by vcook10



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, Established Relationship, M/M, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4869377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vcook10/pseuds/vcook10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viktor braces for the oncoming storm with Dorian's help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flickering Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Viktor Trevelyan is my Dragon Age Inquisition OC. I mention things that I wrote about in his backstory. I hope you enjoy! <3 x

Viktor lit the candles around his bedroom. The air was thick with humidity, making it hard to breathe. He grabbed a bottle of wine and sat on the bed, hands shaking violently. Sweat dripped down his face, landing in small pools on the floor. He drank greedily from the bottle, pushing down his nausea. His whole body tingled.

There was a gentle knock at the door. 

‘Amatus?’ A voice called from the other side. ‘Would you let me in?’

Viktor stood up, hesitating before opening the door. Dorian stood in the doorway, arms full of books. His eyes veered over Viktor’s shoulder into the brightly lit room. 

‘Are you trying to burn all the candles in Skyhold? If so, you’re doing a wonderful job.’

Dorian pushed past Viktor, placing the heavy books onto the bed.

‘What are you doing here, Dorian?’ Viktor glared at the man, wanting nothing more than to be alone. 

Viktor had a ritual since childhood: he found a quite place, made sure it was well lit and then he drank, falling blissfully into an inebriated slumber. 

‘I came to quiz you. You’re always saying how much smarter you are than me so I have come up with a game. Every time you get a question correct, you can have a sip of wine. Every time you get one wrong, I drink. Who ever gets drunk first wins. What do you say?’

It didn’t take Viktor long to realize what he was doing. Dorian had seen him go through this many times before. He always scolded him the next day, reminding him about being a role model to the people and that the Inquisitor shouldn’t show up to meetings hungover. He found it completely unfair considering Dorian was always a little intoxicated. 

‘Fine, I accept your game. But once I’m good and drunk, you need to leave so I can sleep in peace.’ 

Viktor sat on the bed. A light flashed setting the room ablaze, a loud rumble shaking the walls. Viktor’s heart raced, bringing with it a sudden need to vomit. He breathed slowly, hands beginning to shake once again. Dorian rubbed his back, making his skin burn. 

‘Please, don’t touch me.’

His body shivered, although he was burning hot. He put his hand out to Dorian, looking for the bottle.

‘No Amatus. Let’s play the game and get your mind off the weather.’

Dorian opened one of the books. 

‘Ah! Here we go. What plant, used as a seasoning, is said to speed the recovery of the infirm?’ 

He’s giving me an easy one, Viktor thought.

‘Spindleweed.’, he mumbled, reaching for the wine. The warm liquid ran down his throat, calming his nerves.

‘That was a free drink. I shan't give you another.’

Dorian’s eyes shifted, a crooked smile forming on his beautiful face. He started flicking the pages once more.

‘In what year was the Templar Order formed?’

Viktor didn’t understand why Dorian was asking him common questions. He stared at him for a long time before answering.

‘The Templar Order was formed in 1:20 Divine. Why are you asking me such mundane questions? I thought this was supposed to be a battle of wits?’ Viktor took another swig of the liquid, savoring the flavor before swallowing. 

Dorian looked outside. Rain fell on the balcony in a methodical lullaby. Lightning lit up the sky, as thunder cracked in the distance. Dorian closed the book and placed his hand on Viktor’s, the gentle scent of cardamom and sandalwood caressing his senses.

‘Do you want to sit by the door and get some fresh air?’ Dorian asked, looking up at him.

Viktor nodded, as Dorian kissed his forehead. They stood and headed towards the door. A cold gust of wind blew his hair, the breeze felt good against his burning skin. He sat on the floor, watching the rain fall, as Dorian sat behind him, pulling him close.

‘Why do storms make you nervous? You’ve never told me.’

Viktor’s stomach lurched, as he thought about that night so many years ago. He didn’t like thinking about his past, but Dorian deserved to hear the story. He took a deep breath and sighed audibly. 

‘Did I ever tell you that my dad was assassinated? He was on his way home from my Aunt’s wedding when his carriage was attacked. The night of his funeral…’

He trailed off swallowing hard, the lump in his stomach rising to his throat. Tears welled in his eyes, but he managed to keep them from falling. He coughed and continued.

‘The night of his funeral my mother lost control of her powers. I didn’t even know she was a mage before then. My Uncle went in to demand father’s estate, and I guess this upset mother so much she… she froze him in ice.’

Viktor leaned hard against Dorian. His strong, warm arms made him feel safe. This was the first time he had talked about that night since it happened over ten years ago. Lightning lit up the sky, far beyond the mountains. The storm was almost over.

‘I ran away, and slept in an alley. I guess the Maker thought it would be a funny if a storm should also hit. The night was pitch black, except when lightning lit up the sky, reminding me where I was.’

Viktor turned over on his side, placing his head on Dorian’s chest. He stroked Viktor’s head, soothing the growing tension. Viktor fell in and out of sleep, dreaming. Green flashes of light, a hollow voice calling out to him, the scent of burning flesh, the glistening of fallen pearls.

He awoke with a start to see all the candles had been blown out. Dorian lay behind him, rhythmic snores escaping his open mouth. Rain was still falling, but the storm was over. Viktor got up and closed the door before heading to the bed and grabbing a blanket. He placed the covers over Dorian and picked up the bottle of wine, drinking deeply. The fresh scent of the cool night air mingled with the acidic smell of alcohol. 

Viktor laid back on the bed staring at the ceiling. The bed moved, startling him.

‘I must have fallen asleep.’ 

Dorian laid down next to him, pulling him close, his breath tickling Viktor’s ear. They slept, wrapped in each others arms.


End file.
